Perfection
by deceptive-serenade
Summary: You don't own my body. James/OC


**Perfection**

You don't own my body.

_For Keely._

**(One-Shot)**

_Perfection._

I've never understood it, never been one of those people who went to great lengths to strive for it. But perhaps I just contradicted myself; after all, I wouldn't have been in this position if I hadn't, right? Who am I to say that I haven't done the one thing I swore I'd never do?

I suppose there isn't something in particular I'm talking about. A whole makes up a sum of equal parts, and if nothing can be perfect, neither can the sum of parts. And yet, why does that pressure exist? Why is striving for perfection the norm when we're so unhappy?

I saw people every day in the Great Hall, eating as much as they were hungry. I used to be one of those people, never thinking about how many calories were hidden in those delicious meals. I never liked those girls, never understood them; why were they so worried all the time? Why were they measuring their food? They looked fine. Honestly. I never used to take so much care to what I was eating, but I was also always running around, attacking James from behind him, playing Quidditch and just... enjoying life.

I don't remember when exactly that changed.

I think it was gradual. I think it was partially the influence of my friends; when James had a family emergency (everyone knew that Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy were going to end up dating. Come on) and was dealing with that for a few months. In that time, I'd taken to hanging around my roommates - and while I got along with them, I preferred hanging around James and his family.

Because my roommates were _those_ girls.

Stick-thin and concerned they were too fat. Always had a mirror on hand. Wore makeup like it was their lifeline. They weren't stupid - they studied most of the time - but they never _did_ anything. They complained that the library was too far away, and whenever I suggested we go outside, they'd give me _death glares._ Like I'd suggested to pet Buckbeak the Hippogriff without bowing first.

But the worst part about it was that they weren't good friends. Sure, we got close after living together for six years, and they were nice to you, but they were the sort of people who got annoyed easily. They were irritated with my happiness, and my closeness to James - but they never _said_ anything. They'd say it behind my back. They implied it.

They were ruthless bitches, to be honest. Unfortunately, it's hard to see that when they're so nice to you and everything's fun and happy and we're laughing all night and painting each other's toenails and braiding hair and talking about boys. It's hard to know the effect these people can have on you when they start complaining, and it inches its way into your system like an infection.

And then it grows.

I think they knew exactly what they were doing, but like all bullies, they never quite understood the extent to which they were hurting me. It started with my clothes: they weren't good enough, expensive enough. They criticized the way I talked and laughed. They started suggesting I do my makeup every day, even though I only did it every few days or so. At some point, when they thought I was sleeping, they said I was fat. They cornered me into becoming self-conscious.

I'm Carol Longbottom. My father was overweight. _His _father was overweight. I'd inherited the chubby genes, and for most of my life, I was fine with that. But when your defences are down and you're trying to sleep and you've just put up with your so-called friends critiquing everything they can about you... it hurts.

I stood in front of the mirror the next morning. I pinched my stomach, my thighs, my arms, my cheeks. I was too big, from everywhere. I couldn't understand how I so easily went outside every day, how people could possibly _stand_ to see me. I thought I was hideous. I had fallen into their trap of wanting perfection, and I hated myself.

I became exactly like them.

And you'd think, since I figured out how awful they actually were, I would stop being around them and their negativity - but no. Like a fool, I stayed, and I was miserable. I never hung around James and his family anymore, and since I wasn't on the team, this also meant I stopped playing Quidditch. I studied harder than I ever had before, but my grades were going down. I couldn't understand why.

When I first decided I was going to try to lose weight, I thought myself better than the ones with eating disorders. I wanted to monitor my food intake so that I was taking in less and still getting my nutrition. I cut out sweets and fried food from my diet.

Unfortunately, Hogwarts isn't exactly the epitome of health. It was hard to find food that was right for me, and a lot of times, I would find myself stare longingly at what everyone else was eating. Then, secretly and away from my roommates, I would pig out.

That was just as bad an eating disorder. I promise.

There was so much pressure. I thought my roommates were beautiful because they were skinny, and they had boyfriends and I didn't and I just... _couldn't_ fit in with them. I never had, but for the first time in my life, it was bothering me. And for some reason, I couldn't find it in myself to go back to James and his family.

James is and always will be my best friend. We'd grown up together. We were neighbours. We built a tree house in between our houses so we could have a place to play when our parents both wanted us out of our houses. We knew all of each other's secrets.

I was madly in love with him, and everyone knew it. Including James. I think. I loved the boy with his messy black hair and how he pretended to hate his younger brother Albus and how he was so protective of his younger sister Lily. He was obsessed with Quidditch and cheese puffs. He was the nice guy who hung around his humongous family and loved teasing them. I loved that boy, and I never thought we would ever become distant.

Despite that, we would always be best friends. I knew that in my heart. But I started to question it in my mind, beginning to break apart our relationship and try to understand what was there - but I couldn't. We were undefinable, and we always had been. Now, I wanted to define ourselves.

But how could I, with a body like mine? My roommates had said it: I was fat. James knew how I felt about him, it was bloody obvious. I didn't feel like I could measure up to anyone he could see romantically. Merlin only knows how he and I were so close for so long.

I wanted to be that person, but more than anything, I wanted to be perfect.

Nothing was working. I wasn't losing any weight. My grades were slipping. I was miserable all the time. I had no one to talk to that I could trust. I felt like I couldn't walk down the hall without wanting to steal Albus' invisibility cloak. I _knew_ everyone was staring at me. I _knew_ they were thinking about how awful I looked. I looked as disgusting as I felt, and it was an endless cycle.

I had become desperate. Desperation was unfamiliar to me - like falling into the Black Lake, slipping into the icy depths for the first time. It hit me at the worst times possible, when I was alone and particularly vulnerable. I wanted a way out, and the only way I could think of was to be skinny. If only I was skinny. Everyone who was happy was skinny. If I was skinny, all my problems would be solved.

That's how James found me: drowning in my personal ocean of my desperation.

In the middle of May in my sixth year, outside and away from my roommates, under the gathering clouds at a secluded place at the docks. I was rolling something in between my finger tips, and when I heard him coming, I quickly hid it up my sleeve. He was grinning in relief, tapping his wand on his Hogwarts Map (lucky bastard) and stuffing it in his pockets as he stumbled onto the dock.

"Finally," he said a little breathlessly from climbing steps, "I found you."

I grinned, my face stretching into unfamiliar muscles. "Hey, stranger."

"Where have you been?" he asked cheerfully, plopping down beside me. The docks swayed in the water a little from his movement.

"Nowhere, James. Where have _you_ been all my life?" I always flirted shamelessly with James. It was our thing, what made each other laugh - and without fail, he burst into chuckleballs and grabbed me around the shoulders and ruffling my dark hair.

"I've missed that," he said happily. James sighed in relief, as though things had finally come into place for him. "Seriously, Carol, where've you been? You never sit with us or study with us. Or play. And I need my Beater buddy back."

I felt a deep sense of longing. I hadn't played Quidditch in months. "Around, I guess."

"Well come back," he said, looking at me seriously. "I need to copy your notes."

I snorted and looked away, watching the small waves hit the dock. "Take your own damn notes."

"From yours? Why, thank you!" I laughed at his exuberance, his bouncy personality rubbing off on me already. That's always what happened; our good moods rubbed off on each other. Just thinking about it made me wince. Why had I stopped hanging around James?

_Because you're not good enough for him,_ I reminded myself.

"Carol?" James' smile had slipped off his face. "What's wrong?"

My heart lurched. I didn't want him to know. This was the first and only thing I'd ever hid from him. I was embarrassed to tell him about my losing weight. I didn't want him to know of my failure to simply drop a few kilograms.

"Nothing," I said unconvincingly, not looking at him. James stared at me, confused.

"Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Tell me, or I'll tickle you."

"James."

"I'll do it."

"Don't you think we're too old for that?"

"We'll only be too old for it when we stop being ticklish."

"James."

"Last chance, Carol."

"James - _no!_ Ahh!" The next thing I knew, he was tickling at my sides, and I was inching away from him. I giggled uncontrollably.

"Come on, tell me!"

"This should be illegal!"

"Well, it's not, is it?"

"Not yet - _ah!_ Stop, James!" I landed flat on my back as he quickened his efforts, my arms flailing out. Unfortunately, thing thing I'd been hiding in my sleeve flown out landed in the dark waters. My eyes grew wide as he stopped tickling me, and desperately prayed he hadn't noticed. But he had.

He leaned over and picked it up out of the water. "Carol?"

I sat up nervously, fear seizing my stomach. "Yeah?"

"What is this?"

I swallowed. "I don't know."

"_Carol,_" he spat, shoving the cigarette in front of my nose. His brown eyes found mine, anger aflame in them. His hand was shaking. I was shaking. "What the_ fuck_ is this?"

I hugged my knees to my chest. "James, I -"

"What's going on?" He was suddenly very tired; he became this way whenever he was upset. "Why didn't you tell me, Carol?"

"I never lit it."

"Have you lit others?"

"No."

"Were you going to?"

"Maybe." I couldn't help it; anything could set me off these days, and I started to cry. To my surprise, nothing softened in his eyes like it did when I usually cried. He turned away, still furious and upset, dropping the soggy cigarette in the water.

"Tell me what's going on."

"You wouldn't understand," I whispered. Tears were spilling onto my knees and seeping through my knee-sock.

"Why not?" I didn't speak for a long time, and James did nothing to fill in the silence. He didn't move. Just sat cross-legged on the dock, staring into the murky waters where the cigarette was still floating. He was determined to not watch me cry. He really did know me well.

That's probably what made me decide to tell him.

I shifted beside him so we were both watching the stupid cigarette. "I heard they help you lose weight."

James stiffened, his back shooting straight with tension. "Not the right way."

"I'm desperate. I've tried everything."

He was struggling for words, I could tell. He didn't want to have this conversation. "Why do you want to lose weight?"

"I'm fat."

"Not even close."

"Bloody hell, James, don't lie to me." I brought my arms to my knees and buried my face in them. "This is why I didn't tell you."

"Carol..." His voice had finally softened and he brought his arms around me. It was so familiar, and after having been deprived for so long, I felt as though my heart was swelling and bursting in his grasp. He was warm and smelled wonderful. Like home.

Again, we stayed quiet. I wasn't used to long bouts of silence with James; usually, it was endless joking around or flirting or talking. We could be serious if we needed to talk, but it was never like this. We always had something to say to each other.

"James?" He responded by kissing the top of my head. He did that whenever I was upset. "Have you ever felt like you've lost control?"

"Yeah."

"That's what it was." My tears were soaking his shirt now, and I was shuddering. "I felt like everyone else had more say in how I looked than I did. I never felt like I was fat before now. Then my roommates said it, and then everyone said it -"

"Who said that?" he said angrily.

"Not to my face," I whispered. "It's how people view perfection, and I'm not it. I have to be skinny to be pretty."

"That's bullshit."

"Tell me one person who agrees with you."

"Roxanne, last year, when she went through the same thing." Roxanne was one of James' cousins, only a year younger than us - and not at all fat. "I think society sort of got to her."

"It's stupid to judge a person based on their looks."

"I'm glad you know that."

"But it doesn't change the fact that it's the way things work," I explained sadly. "People are always trying to promote normal-looking people, but it never works. The majority of people prefer stick-thin people. Perfection."

"That's not fair." He squeezed me tighter. "Perfection doesn't exist, Carol."

"That's what perfect people say."

"I - _what_?" He did a double take, leaning back to look at my face. "Are you kidding me? You've known me my entire life. You saw me fall off my broom. You saw me rip my pants trying to climb a tree. I've _cried_ in front of you. I'm stubborn and I don't listen to anyone and I have to start paying attention in class." He pushed a strand of hair from my face, his expression breaking. "Is that why you were avoiding me? You think I'm perfect?"

I nodded, blushing furiously.

"No one's perfect. You know that."

"I know," I repeated honestly, "but there are people who are closer to it."

He shook his head. "Bullshit." He paused. "Please don't tell me you starved yourself. Or made yourself throw up."

"No," I admitted, "but I dieted a lot. And I binged."

"Of course that didn't work, you idiot," he said softly, smiling in relief.

I rested my cheek on his chest and closed my eyes. "It's like I don't have a say in how people perceive me, or how I perceive myself. I didn't lose weight because I wanted to, but because I had to. To make my roommates stop talking behind my back. To stop feeling self-conscious. To make you notice me. To be proud of who I am."

"Carol -"

"It's like I don't own my own body," I told him, my heart lurching painfully. "Like I don't have the right to."

He'd started trembling again, if only slightly. I didn't know why.

"Look, I'm going to tell you the same thing Roxanne's parents told her," he began quietly, "and it's that there are lots of different ways to lose weight, but there's only one way that will keep you happy."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Some people need to lose weight. It's true. But no one needs to be like those people in the magazines, because they're freaky as shit. _Perfection_ is freaky as shit. I would never want that. I want my best friend."

"James -"

"You want to lose weight?" he asked, leaning back and looking in my eyes. "You do it because it feels right _here._" He touched the left side of my chest with his hand. "You do it for _you._ Not for anyone else."

"But -"

"Don't let anyone else own your body," he told me, resting his forehead on mine and closing his eyes. "That's what Roxanne did, and we almost lost her. Maybe it's only been for a few months, but..."

I closed my eyes too. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for scaring you, James."

"You were fine the way you were," he said, voice breaking. "You were always running and jumping around. Like Roxanne does now. Stop talking to your bitchy roommates, because you don't need them or their advice. Just lay off the sweets. Come running with me. Don't starve yourself like Roxy did, or smoke. It won't make you happy."

Tears were sliding down my nose. I held on even tighter to him. "I promise."

"Good."

And then his lips were on mine, only for a second before they moved to my cheeks and nose and eyelids. He kissed me over and over, all over my face and then my jaw and neck. His lips were intermingling with my tears and the burning sensation. He was everywhere. He was always there for me.

He lingered on my lips, cradling my face. I don't know how I ever thought he would be ashamed of me. He was my best friend, and I was his. He cared for me just as much I loved him, and I don't know why - or _how -_ I ever doubted that.

"I love you," he murmured, kissing me again. "But not like this. Go back to normal."

"Okay."

"You're prettier when you're healthy. And happy." He kissed my nose. "And I _love_ that."

I sighed contentedly, opening my eyes. "Why are you kissing me, James?"

"Because I felt like it."

"And you didn't before?"

"Of course I did," he stated matter-of-factly, rolling his eyes. "Just wanted it to be special. You've been mine for years."

"I didn't get the memo."

"Well, then you're just stupid," he declared playfully, laughing. I smiled weakly and kissed him again. "Are you feeling better?"

"Beginning to, I think," I said softly. I pressed my burning eyes in his chest. "I don't want to hate myself anymore. Or be self-conscious. I'm tired of worrying about what other people think of me."

"Then don't." James started rocking me. "Do you feel healthy?"

"No."

"Then you know what to do," he said. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

"I thought you needed your space. Turns out you needed me most of all."

"Let's not get cocky, now." He laughed, and I sniffed before letting out giggles. James was right. I _did_ need help, and I shouldn't have been ashamed to admit or accept it.

We stayed out there for hours, just talking. What we did best. I felt as though my mind was finally clearing, as though I could finally breathe, and all I had to do was _keep_ breathing. Without negativity poisoning my mind. Without over thinking. Without a cigarette.

Without making the wrong choices.

* * *

><p>AN: This one shot is particularly important for me since I struggle with weight issues. I just wanted to make sure people know that I would never claim to be an expert in the subject of weight loss and that I'm only speaking from experience. Different things work for different people. Always remember that.

But you know what I really hate? When people truly think of themselves as "fat", and in a negative way. Yes, most of the population of America is overweight - well known fact - but considering yourself fat is, in my opinion, probably the most unhealthy thing someone can do for themselves. People who have different illnesses can still think well of themselves, and just because people don't look like stick-thin models on magazines, why can't people appreciate themselves as _people_? Why can't they love who they are and know that their bodies is just like an organ - in that, no one would hate who they are because their organ is ugly, but they _would_ hate themselves because they've got some body fat? That's not fair. I would never say that you shouldn't lose weight if you needed to. I'm just saying you should do it for the right reasons, and do it for _you._ Don't do it for your parents or your friends or a boy/girl or for how people look at you. Do it because _you_ want to look at yourself and feel healthy about what you're thinking. Do it because the doctors are recommending it for your health. Personally, exercising makes me ridiculously happy.

And... yes, Carol has a boy who cares for her. But that was just a romance aspect of it. You don't need a boy/girl to feel better about yourself. James was really being a friend who accepted her as she was, and telling her that if she wanted to change, she had to take initiative and do it for herself. He happened to be in love with her, sure, but I think we all need that friend or parents who understands and is supportive. And if you've got a friend who is suffering from low-self esteem, tell them that the only person that can change things is themselves, and be with them every step of the way.

Regardless of if you're dealing with those issues or not, I really hope you enjoyed this one-shot. Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought of it!


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